


Ask Box Fic #11

by SaSaCo



Series: Ask Box Fics Archive [11]
Category: Three Days Grace (Band)
Genre: Archived From Tumblr, Archived From sasaco-fics Blog, M/M, Phone Sex, Smut, Stranger Sex, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaSaCo/pseuds/SaSaCo
Summary: ”I know I should have checked before I said anything, but half the fun of phone sex is surprise and so I–“ Written by anonymous.*Saved and posted to Ao3 as an archival piece. SaSaCo is not the writer. If you are the writer and would like this piece removed, please comment here or send us a message on Tumblr at sasaco-fics.





	Ask Box Fic #11

Neil is sitting alone in his apartment on a Saturday night, watching TV. Alone. (Sadly, a situation quite normal for him.) And that’s when it happens for the first time. The phone rings, quiet and innocuous, and Neil doesn’t even look up from the hockey game on the screen when he answers. ”‘llo?“ He asks, taking a swig of beer.

"I hope you’ve got that plug in nice and tight, opening you up for me," says a dark, rough-soft voice on the other end. ”’ve been thinking of you all day, you know?“

The blond spits his mouthful of Labatt halfway across the room. ”…What?“

There’s a long while of silence, then an apologetic, "Fucking hell, sorry.” and then the buzz of a dial tone in his ear. That’s the first time.

The second time, is about five minutes later, when he’s finished cleaning up the mess he’s made and his pulse had finally gone back to somewhat normal. Neil, usually, isn’t an overly horny guy. But fucking hell did that voice go straight to his dick, and he’s still a little hard when the phone rings again. He makes sure the beer is on the table this time. “Yeah?”

“Look, okay. I’m not a stalker or anything, I dialed the wrong number. I know I should have checked before I said anything, but half the fun of phone sex is surprise and so I–” Neil can’t really help it; he’s embarrassed, but he laughs anyway. Trying to stifle it with he free hand. But some of his amusement must have been badly concealed because the other guy lets his explanation trail off, and then offers a quiet chuckle of his own. “Okay, that probably wasn’t what you were expecting out of your Saturday night," The stranger on the phone says, "Sorry if I interrupted anything.”

Neil laughs again, a bit shorter this time. “It’s fine,” he says. “You didn’t really mess up anything except my Saturday night hockey re-run session. I’m pretty sure you’re the one up to exciting things.”

“Shit man, that’s just sad. It’s Saturday night. Go find yourself an orgasm.” Neil’s still reeling from the punch of lust when the guy hangs up again.

~

They’ve become a little bit of a habit by now, the calls. “Gonna fuck yourself on your fingers tonight?” Neil takes a deep, shaky breath and lets it out on a quiet moan. He’s already halfway to coming just from listening to that fucking voice. It’s been weeks and he can’t get enough of this.

“Gonna,” he agrees, sliding down a little further in bed, spreading his legs wider. They usually start off slower, ease into it, but tonight it’s been zero to sixty in nothing flat and Neil is loving it.

“This is so hot, I can’t fucking believe it.” Mystery Guy— they haven’t exchanged names, so that’s his best bet —lets out a deep, throaty laugh that fizzes darkly along Neil’s nerve endings. That voice is lethal to his self-control. He’s addicted, totally at this guy’s beck and call on a nightly basis, on tenterhooks every time waiting for the phone to ring and these 'wrong number’ conversations to begin. It’s like something out of some fucked up erotica novel.

And Neil would laugh, but he’s usually too busy gasping for breath or muffling his screams. Whoever Mystery Guy is, he has a voice like whiskey-drenched velvet and an infinite repertoire of kinky sex acts that are slowly driving Neil insane. “Just one finger,” Mystery Guy tells him. “Slide it in nice and slow. Did you lube up, get yourself all wet?”

“Yes.” Neil’s face is burning as he obeys the instruction, holding back from slamming in as many fingers as will fit. "It’s all … squelchy. I’m real slippery inside.“

"Good.” He hears Mystery Guy breathing a little faster, and his voice gets that raspy edge Neil loves. “I bet you’re smooth as fucking silk in there. Love to get my fingers inside you, feel it for myself.” Mystery Guy likes to hear him describe how it feels, even though Neil gets horribly embarrassed. And Neil wonders if that’s part of the fun, wonders what would happen if he stopped talking about what he’s doing, then decides he’s not embarrassed enough to risk it. But he’s not stupid — and besides, the more they do this the less he cares about how he sounds, because Mystery Guy really seems to get off on it and that is downright scorching.

He slides his finger in and out a few times, getting used to it. He’s still new to this whole ass thing, and it took him a while to admit that he likes it. Now he’s all too eager, although he thinks he’ll never be as verbal about his enjoyment as his partner is.

That’s okay; Neil’s pretty sure he could come from Mystery Guy’s voice alone. Maybe they’ll try that sometime, if this thing they’ve got keeps going. “Talk to me,” Mystery Guy says, pulling Neil back to the here and now. “Tell me what it’s like. Are you gonna keep your fingers in there, try to come that way? Or is it a jerk-off kinda night? I bet you’re painfully hard right now. Bet you’d pound any ass I put in front of you.”

“J-Jesus,” Neil stammers. He arches his back and lifts his hips off the bed, rubbing hard against his prostate. “Gonna— gonna come like this, fuck. Feels so fucking dirty. I don’t … nobody knows I do this.” He bites his lip, breathing hard now. “Nobody would believe it, probably. I’m not exactly popular.”

“Believe me, it is their fucking loss,” Mystery Guy drawls, low and heated. “You’ve got no idea how fucking sexy you sound. You’re all cocky politeness until we get going, then you turn into this fucking wet dream coming straight down the phone line. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

Neil flushes all over, sweat popping out in his pits and the v of his hips, the small of his back. The idea that Mystery Guy finds this— him —such a turn-on is unbelievable, but there’s too much raw want in his voice for Neil to doubt it. It gives him a little more confidence, enough to switch the call to hands-free and put the phone on the nightstand so he’s got a little more freedom to move.

“Did you just put me on speaker?”

“Uh-huh.” Neil puts a pillow under his hips and grins blindly at the ceiling. “Changed my mind. Gonna jerk off with my fingers in my ass while you talk to me. Your fucking voice, Jesus, I fucking love it.” He arches again, presses his head into the mattress. “I dream about it sometimes. Wake up hard in the middle of the night and jerk off again.”

“Oh my God, you’re fucking killing me here." Mystery Guy’s voice is guttural now, sounding ripped to shreds. Neil shudders and slides another finger in his ass. ”’M gonna call you at two a.m. sometime, see if I get lucky. It’d be so good to listen to you all sleepy, getting yourself off twice for me.“

"Oh, fuck yes,” Neil breathes.“Yeah, that’d be, oh God—” and just like that he’s coming, without warning, far sooner than he wants to. He lets out a surprised cry and lets his hips stutter through it, slumping back on the bed when he's done. He lies there and tries to get his breath back, idly rubbing splatters of come into his belly.

Mystery Guy is panting harshly down the line; Neil can hear the faint slap-slap of skin on skin and it turns him on all over again. He rolls over to face the phone and lets out a satisfied little growl, straining to hear more. “So fucking hot, listening to you,” he murmurs, stretching lazily. “Love hearing it.” Another wave of heat rolls over him when Mystery Guy moans, those sinful sounds becoming louder. Neil wonders how the hell did this all happen.

Then he hears a muffled knock and a slam of the door over the line and an abrupt silence. Then he hears another voice over the line, all wishy washy and unclear. “Brad, what’s taking you s- oh.”


End file.
